


They did.

by joeytrlbiani (wlntrfell)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean reuniting in case SPN does us dirty, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, How Dean & Castiel should meet again, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Sad with a Happy Ending, Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27630485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wlntrfell/pseuds/joeytrlbiani
Summary: Dean won't let himself hurt until there is absolutely no hope whatsoever. None at all. This is his last chance.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	They did.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my take on how Dean/Cas reunite to proclaim their love after 15x18. It's angsty and sad, but it has a hopeful ending.  
> Please let me know what you think! And follow me on Tumblr (joeytrlbiani) for more destiel rambling & fandom stuff.
> 
> Note: I also wrote this in case SPN does us dirty and I have to pretend in my head that this is how it went down.  
> Chuck-speed everyone for episode 20!
> 
> Note: f**K the CW & f**K Dabb.

_~~~_

_This better work, dammit._

Dean closes his eyes, and feels the air thicken as he speaks – sending Latin out into the space as the air begins to vibrate. He tightens his eyes – afraid to open them too early and meet disappointment – the bunker, empty, with lines of meaningless books sitting heavy on the old shelves.

They were once so enticing – so magical. Now they were just ghostly silhouettes on a stand – lined in rows like crows perched along a broken fence.

Even with his eyes shut, Dean can see the flickering of the lamp beside him. It quickens in speed as he continues the spell, and it takes all of Deans focus to speak the words clearly, confidently, _loudly –_ so that the universe is sure to hear him and grant this wish. _This one wish._

Dean says the final word, and the flickering stops.

It is quiet. _Silent._ But Dean does not open his eyes.

He waits.

And waits.

He waits more.

Then there is a high pitch _screech_ that sends Dean towards the floor, cupping his ears and gripping his eyes shut as the sound reverberates through his lungs, heart, and head. It _burns_ his temples, and Dean furrows his face intensely. His stomach tightens.

Then the sound begins to fade ever so slightly, and Dean can hear them – the _voices._ The screeching morphs into hundreds – _thousands_ – of voices, yelling, mumbling, whispering, and he tilts his head. Dean begins to rise again, slowly stretching up into a standing position, and he opens his eyes. It is _chaos._

_What the hell?_

Dean thought, as beams of light shot past one another – shadows of figures racing across each other and bouncing off the void.

_I thought the empty was supposed to be quiet._

He squints, trying to focus on anything that could help him make sense of the space beyond, but everything moves too fast. Dean does not know where to begin – but he’s on a time limit, and so he puts one foot forward.

_I guess I must go forward._

_Wherever that is._

Dean moves forth – scaling the empty space before him. _Determined._ Dean never told Sam the plan – never mentioned where he was going, or what he was doing. But Dean knew on some level that Sam _knew_. Dean could see when Sam passed the hallway – noticing his concerned, furrowed brow in the corner of his eye as Dean took his fifth swig of scotch… of his second bottle. Dean could feel Sam’s gaze as he poured through the books, manuscripts, and tablets in the basement in the early hours of the morning – pages sprawled out over the floor, covering the devil’s trap and specks of Empty that had stained the concrete. Sam _knew._

Dean did not know where to go – which way, _what_ way to turn. Amongst the empty was madness, whipping past his neck and feet – and the screeching continued to burn his eyes.

But his heart continued to pound, and ache, and remind him _why_ he was here – _who_ he was here for. He had only minutes. So, amongst the noise and chaos, Dean’s voice arose – beaming out into the void and pulling against the tension in the air.

_“_ _Cas?”_

_“Cas – where the hell are you?”_

_“Cas!”_

Dean’s eyes darted, searched, _pleaded._

 _Give me something,_ Dean thought.

_Anything._

Then, he saw it.

A stutter in the chaos.

A fault in the lights.

A brief, momentary _pause._

Dean’s eyes fixated in the direction where a shadowy figure seemed to just… stop. It was brief – if Dean hadn’t been focusing, hadn’t kept his peripheral in check, he would never have noticed it. Never noticed the hovering.

The figure was no longer there – long gone into the abyss, but Dean’s eyes had seared its image right into his head. He had no sense of how _far_ it had been away from him – but Dean didn’t care, pushing right towards it.

* * *

Dean had not idea at all what he was looking for, and time was limitless in this void. He wasn’t sure if he had been walking for mere minutes or seconds, but it felt like a lifetime, and he didn’t have that kind of time. His heart continued to pound – screaming out in pain amongst the voices, but Dean pushed it down. He couldn’t – not yet.

_Not until he was sure._

It had been days since Cas… since Cas was taken. Since Cas had said those words that had felt like a breath of fresh air – like a freedom had washed over Dean’s soul, cupped his cheek, and told him _it’s okay._

Only to be suffocated so forcefully that Dean had felt his heart convulse.

Dean remembers that night – sobbing against the wall. He remembers the way his phone vibrated, and then faded away as the pain grew so intense that the world around him numbed.

And then, eyes burning, Dean had stood up. He had looked towards the empty space, at the grey wall, at the broken door – and he had _vowed_ that he wouldn’t let himself like _that_ until he was absolutely sure that there was absolutely _no hope._

_None at all._

* * *

The scene beyond him remained the same, but he kept going. Until he reached an end, until his time had run out – he would _keep going._

Then he heard it – felt it.

Dean stopped in his tracks – in-between the creases of an endless void, where he looked down at his boots. The folds of his left boot were speckled with burgundy, and as he lifted his toes, he _saw them_.

_Ripples._

Dean tapped his toes and, as he did, he could hear the faint pitter of water underneath his feet amongst the _loud._ He furrowed his brow and, with his breathing hastening, he crouched down. Dean dipped a finger into the liquid – it felt like honey but dripped like water, and faded into the empty as soon as it settled. It left no trace on Dean’s fingers, and there seemed to be no end. He slowly dipped his finger further, then two fingers, and then his hand.

_What the hell is this?_

He whipped his hand out of the liquid, unable to determine what this means.

_What am I supposed to do?_

Dean gazed at the water, then up at the space beyond him, and then down again. There was nothing, _nothing else here_ that had given him any hope. Nothing to cling to – nothing to keep him from _breaking._

This was it.

This was his last chance.

Dean could feel his heart hammering.

And then he slowly dipped his hand below.

It sunk further into the void – the ripples around his right hand forming as he lowered it further below. He stretches his fingers around, lowering his arm further until his elbow sunk below the surface. He braced himself with his left arm and sunk deeper.

Dean’s eyes widened.

His finger brushed against something – _something._ It was dense – cold – but as Dean reached toward it, it expanded. It widened against his palm, until Dean could grip it tightly with his right hand. Dean paused, then shut his eyes tight – and prayed one last time.

_Please._

Dean gripped as tightly as he could – lowering his second arm into the depths below – and pulled up.

_Up._

_Up._

_Up._

Dean’s adrenaline pulls the figure up and drags it over to Dean’s right side as he screams – _pleads_ \- into the void. The black empty drips across its body – falling into the abyss and drifting away to reveal the face Dean had never thought he would lay eyes on again.

_Cas?_

Dean pulls himself up and then brings Cas into his lap, laying the angel’s sunken body across his legs as Dean grips his face and shakes it.

“Cas?”

“Please, wake up man.”

“Cas.”

“Cas?”

There isn’t any movement – no breath to escape Castiel’s lips. No voice to break through the loud that electrifies the space.

_“He’s asleep Dean – as they all are in my void.”_

Dean tenses, and his head shoots up. As he turns his head to his left, there stood the Empty – awake, _angry,_ in Meg’s form _._ Eyes sunken and bleeding red, they seared into Deans’ and its lips turned upward as they flicked from him to Castiel, and then back at Dean.

“I’m taking him back.”

“ _Now Dean, you know that’s not going to happen now.”_

“Oh really?”

The Empty winced, as the screeching grew louder. Dean furrowed his brows.

_“My, you know – I have yet to go back to **sleep,** so I am not in my best mood Dean.”_

“I’m sure I could get you the nap you deserve.”

“ _Oh, Dean… so funny. So… LOUD,”_ screeched the Empty. It raised a hand, and Dean felt his throat tighten. His feet dangled, legs shifting hastily, and Dean gripped his throat – though he knew that would never work.

_At least I’m with him._

Dean could feel the air thicken. He felt the timer ticking.

_“You Winchesters – you know, your boy, he woke **everyone.** Everyone is awake, and they’re so noisy. Can you imagine, Dean? Thousands of bees lodged inside your ear canal, buzzing, and biting and **irritating you.** ”_

The space around Dean began to blur – the Empty’s face but a smear across the black canvas.

_“And they’re just…. So…. What are you DOING?”_

The Empty screamed, and Dean dropped to the ground. He gasped and felt the air ripple back into his lungs as he looked towards the Empty. Beams of light raced around it – whipping past its ears and the screeching in the void reached astronomical levels. Dean wanted to shield his ears and crawl away, but he crawled towards _Cas._

Dean pulled him closer, and his eyes darted frantically around the empty space.

_What do I do?_

He looked down at Cas’ face – eyes closed, and lips pressed together. He was so... _peaceful._ Sleeping away, just as he did once when he had been human.

_Human._

Dean’s eyes flickered as they widened.

_Could it?_

_Would it work?_

Dean frantically felt through his pockets, boots, and jacket. He could hear the Empty regaining control – he had to be quick. _He had to._ He had mere seconds to pull this off.

Dean felt his small blade tucked in his left boot and pulled it out hastily.

_It’s now or never._

Dean drags the blade across Castiel’s neck – his soft, stubbled neck. Castiel’s grace snakes out and wisps into the void – lighting up the wrinkles on Castiel’s face and reflecting into the pools beyond. The void slowly filled with Cas’ blue light – and Dean watches as the Empty whips their head around, eyes wide. Dean pulls Castiel in closer, clutching him tight against his chest with his arm wrapping around him. He lowers his forehead to Cas’, and tightens his eyes shut as he hears the Empty’s voice pierce through the air.

_“Why you little-“_

* * *

There is silence.

Dean keeps his eyes closed tightly, Cas’ body pressed up against him – and Dean feels the hairs on Cas’ head brush against his own as he refuses to move his forehead. Dean isn’t sure where he is, or what is happening.

_Am I dead?_

_Did the Empty win?_

_Is Cas really here?_

Dean’s heart thumps in his chest, and his breathing stutters ever so slightly.

Then he feels it. A small pulse – a vibration, a furrow that grazes against his forehead.

“Dean?”

Dean’s eyes snap open, he pulls his head back. Dean takes no notice of the bunker around them – no notice of the water dripping down the staircase, or the books that lined the shelves with life, because -

_There they are._

_Blue._

_Bright._

_Confused._

Castiel’s voice is gruff and gritty, and Dean blinks.

“Dean, are you… you?”

Dean feels the burning in his eyes – the sting.

_Not yet._

“Cas?”

_Not yet._

“Dean, what is happening?”

_Not yet._

“Cas, I-“

_Not yet._

“Dean…”

Dean feels the first tear drip from his eye, and the rest begin to follow hastily as he brings his hand up to Castiel’s cheek. Dean’s shoulders begin to shake and Castiel shifts his weight slightly.

“Dean, why am I here? What did you d-“

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean splutters.

Cas’ eyes do not move – his gaze unwavering as they pierce through Dean and into his soul. He slowly weaves an arm under Dean’s. Cas breathes out a string of words – the faintest whisper one could fathom.

“Are you sure?”

Dean laughs – spluttering as tears fall onto his green jacket. He pulls Cas closer – their foreheads mere millimetres away.

“I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. _Of course_ , I’m sure.”

Castiel’s hand grips Dean’s jacket behind his back, and Dean pulls Castiel in tightly. Cas can smell the sweat across Dean’s neck, and Dean can hear the rustle of Castiel’s trench coat as it shuffles against Dean’s jeans.

* * *

The embrace feels to last a lifetime.

But Dean and Cas –

_they did._


End file.
